Corrupted Radiance
by xkaiistarx
Summary: If the Gods could grant him one wish, he would take it all back, before the night, before this. But it was too late, it had always been too late. Norway, Vietnam, Russia. Bloodborne AU.


Foreword:

Yo guys, just a note that since the story takes place in the bloodborne universe, there will be a lot of Gothic and Victorian era environments and elements (reminiscent of other Souls Games) involved. The basic plot stays the same, but I took the liberty to expand and alter the minute details and give my own interpretation on certain lore and scenes.

Dark themes like gore are going to be commonplace, hence the rating.

Certain characters (npcs) in the original game share names with other members of hetalia cast. So this is a note that besides the mentioned trio in the summary, none of the other characters are from aph, unless of course you don't mind thinking and reading about a terrible ooc let's say, america, somewhere down the line.

...

* * *

Tome 1: Five

 _I_

 _Minister_

 _Seek Paleblood to transcend the hunt._

...

.

The man wakes from a dream of ghastly creatures crawling over his form and the scent of blood, disoriented and mind empty of memories except for his name and the knowledge of one bred to kill beasts. The hardness of the cot digs into his back, and he lets out a minute groan as he pushes himself up, his name on the tip of his tongue as he looks around the room. A musty basement stares back at him, wooden walls bare as he stands slowly and takes in the faint metal sheen of appliances he cannot name. Shelves of worn books glow faintly from the scant sources of light that illuminates the room, but this he pays no mind as he walks around the room, spying in the darkness an open doorway that led to a small flight of descending stairs.

The faintest stench of herbs and blood tinge the air as he passes, and the man wonders, head buzzing as he picks at a piece of paper on a dusty chair before continuing on his exploration of the rooms. A clinic. It was likely he had been treated here, but why? Prior scribbles of ink haunt his mind as he enters an adjacent room, halting in wary observation as he hears shuffling and the soft echoes of footsteps on wood.

Oil lamps flicker dimly on the wall, reflecting weak shadows as he manoeuvred silently round the rice paper dividers until he catches sight of a shadowed figure standing by a cot. A woman, but past knowledge has taught him to dismiss nothing as a threat. Arm rises in preparation to strike, but before he could advance feet twist towards him, the weak light of fire catching molten irises under strands of hair as the figure stiffens and makes a motion to deflect.

She catches his wrist, fingers curling around flesh and squeezing warningly with strength she did not bother to hide. There was crumpled paper in her other hand, dried ink identical to the paper he had found before. The man falters and resists the urge to retaliate and twist her arm, taking in the clothes she wore; dark tunic, light travelling clothes. Like him. His eyes move upwards until he is observing her face, tracing the curve of her jaw and the colour of her hair, a dirty brown that bled into black in the terrible light.

A memory seeps through him, vague and strange but concrete and _there_. When he utters a name, something within his chest stirs. Familiarity. He knows her; he is sure of it.

"Lien?"

The woman startles, pulling her hand back as though burnt. Wheat-coloured orbs sized him up guardedly, a frown marring her face as she looks at blonde locks and eyes of inky navy. "How do you know my name?" When the man does not answer she continues to stare, confusion apparent on her face before she inhales sharply.

"Your name, it wouldn't be Lukas, would it?" She says softly, uncertain and wary after a period of silence. The man blinks in surprise before moving his head in an almost imperceptible nod. The movement sends a curl of his blonde hair to sway gently against his cheek.

"Did I know you before? I can't remember. I can't remember anything at all." A pause. "Fellow hunter."

A quirk of his lip. "That makes the both of us." The man glances at the open door, noting the eerie quiet that lies await beyond. The rooms before all held the same silence with no sign of healers or other patients, unsettling for a place of treatment.

"Whatever the case, I presume there is a reason you are here?"

"Yes, though I probably can say the same of you."

Despite his suspicions he loosens enough to allow a flash of amusement passes his eyes. "I say we hold a truce. Something tells me this is not a welcoming place."

"Most hunters are solitary creatures for good reason and I am no different." Eyes never leaving his, she places the crumpled paper on the cot. "I have given you no reason to trust me, and you have given me none. I'm afraid you have to be a little bit more convincing than that."

"Isn't the knowledge of each other's names enough?" Light from the oil lamps were getting dimmer; someone should be coming to brighten them soon. Lukas ponders, weighing on his choice of answer. "You have had a strange dream, and now you have woken up with amnesia, knowing nothing but your own name and mine. That must mean something, if out of all memories that is what you remembered. I have no qualms allying with you for now, if only with the knowledge that your name means something to the past me."

There it was again, a hint of surprise registering beneath the depths of her passive exterior. Lien keeps her gaze level for a tense minute before sighing, breath withdrawn and deep. "You flatter the both of us too much, but I suppose I could work with you for a while, if only until we get our hands on some weapons." That much was true; he had searched his garb and found nothing of value, much less a stray possession that gave him an inkling of who he was before he got here. But he had her cooperation now, if nothing else, and he focuses on that as he leads her out of the room past creaky floorboards and cluttered hallways darkened with faulty unlit lamps.

A sinister silence penetrates the clinic, the iron smell of blood growing stronger when Lukas spots pinpricks of natural light seeping into the small waiting room they turn into. Before them, the dead carcass of a mutant wolf lies, matted fur still spilling blood onto wood. A half-eaten body of a human man lies a ways from them, bits of meat sticking on the exposed ribcage and face slashed clean from recognition.

Lukas exchanges an unsettled glance with the woman beside him as she moves, following as she steps over bodies of both man and beast cautiously and headed for the open doorway that stood at the top of a flight of stairs. The sky was lacklustre when he emerges from the basement, the courtyard barren with withered trees and cracked tombstones. He picks a few scattered bullets and blood vials from the ground, twiddling the glass and watching the red liquid swirl. The sharp metallic glint of a needle catches the light inside the vial, and he presses the cylinder into Lien's hands when she walks back from the end of the courtyard, pocketing the rest as he surveyed his surroundings.

Yharnam, the town of blood ministration, where blood was the most important currency, sought to heal and cure. It seemed his dream wasn't as surreal as he thought. He was where he needed to be, but why and for what purpose?

"The gates on that side are locked." Lien says softly, breaking him from his musings. In the late afternoon sun her eyes shone a muted gold as she turns toward the closer end of the courtyard where a similar set of iron gates reside. This set of gates open easily enough, leading them out to the sight of a huge arched aqueduct overlooking the courtyard.

Cobblestones blend easily with the gothic architecture, giving central Yharnam a jaded, ancient look. Flanked by iron fences, one side of the street was a sheer drop down into a cloud of murky haze. If he squinted, Lukas could almost see bits and pieces of the sewers that lie below. A soft tug on his tiny capelet draws him away, and they move stealthily behind a gold trimmed carriage as flickers of a torch on fire advance towards them.

The brim of a broad hat comes into view, the wrinkled face of an Yharnam native with eyes crazed and vacant gazing at the empty road across him before walking back. Lien glances back at Lukas once before slipping out into view, hands placating as her feet scrape the cobblestones intentionally. The Yharnamite catches sight of her before she could speak and extend a tentative hello, releasing a bloodcurdling cry as he rushes forward, swinging the axe he held in his other hand. It happens so quickly in a matter of seconds. Widened eyes and shortness of breath, and next thing Lukas is aware of is the slash wound digging into his shoulder and his muscles screaming in agony as he staggers back.

He can hear angry yelling and cries of pain from the Yharnamite through the red haze of pain as his fingers fumble for the blood vial in his pocket. Strange, it didn't hurt as much as he thought it would. With one swift motion he uncaps the needle and stabs the vial into his open flesh, grunting as the gush of foreign blood enters his bloodstream and closes his wound, the sting disappearing as quick as it came. One of the benefits of being a hunter was after all, quickened regeneration.

Standing up, he sidesteps just as the Yharnamite's body flies past him and smashes against the the carriage door, the torch and axe still miraculously in his hands. Stumbling up, Yharnamite snarls, figure grotesque as he lungs toward the female hunter. Lien catches him easily, dodging the flames of his torch, bloody fists smashing and breaking bone as she executes an uppercut to his jaw, leaving his back open for Lukas to give a clean jab to the spine.

The severing of vertebrae causes the crazed Yharnamite to gurgle up blood before falling facedown onto the uneven ground, dead. Blood vials spill from his pockets, and it takes the both hunters a few moments to regain their composure before picking them up. Lien pants, wiping her soiled hands on her garb as she turns to face him. She watches the way he looks at her trembling fists and lifts them up for him to see.

"Don't need to look at me like that." Her puffs turn lighter as he approaches, ceasing after she heaves a particularly drawn out sigh. In the distance, a bell tolls, but not one bird can be seen in the sky. "It's mostly his blood. Are you alright?"

"Yes." He inspects the bruises on her knuckles, faint even with the blunt force she had utilised beforehand. "You hit very well."

"Thank you. I am used to it." She moves ahead of him, casting a backward glance at the fallen native. "The locals here are not just unfriendly, aren't they?"

Indeed, there was something unsettling about the way the Yharnamite had looked; a cloudy mist over his eyes and his snarl crazed, as though possessed. The atmosphere was tense as they found a ladder leading up the stone walls to the next level of houses and made their ascent. The odour of incense was faint in the air once they reached the top. A part of the street was cordoned off, the formidable steel gates unyielding to intruders. Unable to pass, they sought to find other ways through.

The smell of incense grew stronger as they drew closer to the reddish glowing lamp hung just outside next to a barred up window. The glass was tinted, but Lien rattles the chains of the windows gently before rapping her knuckles against the bars. A moment of silence occurs before Lukas shoots her a look, but before she can retort a raspy, tired voice sounds from the other side of the window.

"That smell..." The voice sighs, as though it has been in disuse for a long time. "You must be a hunter, and not from around here either."

"Yes," Lien says. "Hello."

"Hello. I am Gilbert, a fellow outsider. I'm sorry, you must have seen it already; Yharnam has a fine way of treating its guests."

"It is hard not to notice when all their greetings comprised of incoherent screaming _." And not to mention attempted murder_ , but Lukas refrains from saying so when Lien sends him a warning look and shushes him.

"Two of you? Well, this is quite an unusual situation, forgive me for not noticing. Again, I am sorry for the way they treated you two. I don't think I could stand if I wanted to, but I am willing to help with advice, if there is anything that can be done." Gilbert coughs from behind the window, deep and hacking, and Lukas feels a tinge of guilt at his earlier jab.

"Excuse my acquaintance. He gets cranky easily." Lien drops her fingers from the iron bars, mouth twisting into a disapproving frown that he chooses to ignore.

"On a day like this I can understand why. Whatever your reasons might be here, you should plan a swift exit. Whatever can be gained in this place will do more harm than good."

A thoughtful silence coats the air for a brief moment before Lukas finally opens his mouth, scribbles of ink still fresh in his mind. "May we inquire then, if you know what Paleblood is?"

"Paleblood, you say?" Gilbert's voice turns thoughtful. "Hmm, never heard of it. But if its blood you are interested in, you should try the Healing Church. They control all knowledge of blood ministration and all varieties of blood in these parts, in the place called Cathedral Ward east from here. Deep within the ward lies the old grand cathedral, the birthplace of the Healing Church's special blood,... or so they say." Another painful cough. "Yharnamites don't share much with outsiders. But the Hunt is on tonight, so this may be your chance."

A silent understanding as both hunters share a glance, though Lukas can barely hold her gaze for long before he nods, averting his head away to look at the towering aqueduct.

"Thank you." Her murmur was soft as she pulls away from the window, and the voice within sighs deeply at their departure.

"I hope you find what you are looking for."

...

They were barely out of earshot from the house before Lien turns to him, mouth twitching in distaste. "Why did you say that?"

"It is hard to trust anyone when the first townsperson you met tried to kill you." He counters smoothly, tone level as he watched her turn away from him.

"You didn't have to be so harsh, he could very well be the only person in these parts that is willing to help."

"It could have been a trick. You don't know if he wants us killed."

An irritated sigh. "The least you could have done was to give him the benefit of the doubt, just like you did me." She finally turns to face him, an irked expression on her face. "Or am I the only exception to your rule?"

"You might as well be." The words slip from his mouth easily though he had not meant them to, and they both still as the impact of those few syllables washes over them. Lukas averts his head to the side when Lien parts her mouth, but she remains oddly speechless, shaking her head after a good second, lips pressed tightly against each other.

"Well, that's...that's really foolish of yo-"

A distorted scream echoed through the air, garbled and agonised from the direction of the aqueduct, drawing their attentions from the matter at hand. The elongated shape of something grey on the ground catches his eye as the grating screech fades, and Lukas walks towards it. Up close the structure looked more onyx than grey, rising strangely from the ground in an arching curve that stood no taller than the average bush. A small unlit lamp hangs plainly on the tip of the metal rod, and he finds the oddest compulsion to touch it.

His fingers had barely brushed the smooth metal before the burner starts to glow white, wispy smoke trailing out from of its side. The cobblestones bordering the lamp post radiate with intensity, and he sucks in a breath as tiny white creatures with bulbous heads rose from the ground to surround it, bony limbs raised up almost as if in reverence. The creatures from his dream. Cloth brushes his knee, and he looks to his side to see Lien kneeling beside him, muted gold mesmerised.

"Do you feel that?" She says, and he hums, eyes drooping but mind focused at the same time. There was a tugging feeling emitting from the lamp's glow, pressing him down. Sensations of safety and sanctuary. He gives in just as Lien does, palm hovering close to the lamp as he closes his eyes. Their figures sway, dissipating into the still air, leaving nothing but the glowing lamp and the praying messengers.

...

Whiteness obscures his vision when he next opens his eyes. The smell of wet grass hits his nose when he sits up, mind clear as body shakes off the last traces of lethargic limbo. For the second time that day, Lukas grunts as he pushes himself off the ground, keen eyes taking in the old, iron spires that sit proudly on the top of a greyish, single-story Victorian-styled house. A stone platform elevates the house, and garden of pastel flowers runs below it, bearing paths that lead deeper and behind what he cannot see.

Fog and mist gave off a dreary feel, and everywhere he looked he saw fences and gates that bordered the periphery of the garden, snaking around the garden paths. Stone monuments lay scattered around the garden and cabin, headstones and silent fountains cracked with age, but still beautiful, even when grey.

The outline of a figure sprawling on grass a few feet away catches his eyes, and hurriedly Lukas stumbles forward, only exhaling relief once he notices the almost invisible, rhythmic breathing of the sleeping hunter. Lien stirs when he reaches out to shake her, raising her hand to brush bits of dirt and grass off her cheek as she stands unsteadily and blinks back the haze in her eyes.

Surveying the sanctuary that had called them from the other side, they both turn in tandem to notice the doll, a perfect mannequin that sits unmoving on the ledge against the stone wall that borders part of the house. Dressed artistically in a frilled skirt and bonnet, every detail was spared no expense, from individual eyelashes down to the gold laces of her boots. She looked almost human, albeit paler and immobile, but closer inspection revealed cracked paint and the aged joints of her fingers.

Lien almost makes to touch the wooden digits, but the soft groaning of foreign creatures cause her recoil and snap her head behind. The surface of the stone steps shift, and both hunters watch tensely as the same bulbous creatures rose from within, holding weapons in their hands as they hum gravelly. Hands raise high, as though presenting an offering, and it is with caution that Lukas moves forward to pick at one of the three. The dull sheen of a metal cane catches his eye; sturdy and strong; good for blunt force trauma. When he picks it up, the messengers grunt in approval before turning towards his companion and raising the remaining choices.

They sink back into the stone as she raises the handle of the saw cleaver, its blade bounded with grisly yellowed bandages, the metal underneath still sharp. Another group takes their place a few steps higher up the flight of stairs, this time brandishing firearms, and they follow. The passing of objects continue until they reach the last of the stone steps, where the final messenger hands them a leather-bound book before sinking from view.

The heavyset doors of the cabin were open. Lukas follows Lien in, noting the weapons and shelves of books that line the ceilings and walls. A fireplace crackles in the middle of the room, the sound warm and comforting. Watching the sparks was an old man in a wheelchair. He turns his head at the first steps on soft carpet, and vacant stare crinkles into something more calculative as he smiles.

"Ah, you must be the new hunters." He drawls as they come closer. "Welcome to the Hunter's Dream. I am Gehrman, friend of you hunters. This place...will be your home for now."

"Home?" Indigo eyes narrow.

"It will be your refuge, if you ever find the blood and death outside too much to handle." Gehrman pauses, considering. "I'm sure you are all in a fine haze, but this will all pass. Just go out and kill a few beasts. It's for your own good."

"What would a man like you know of our own good?" Both men turn their gazes to Lien, one more surprised than curious, but her stare remains resolute, and Lukas realises that it was perhaps less of a snark and more of a genuine question that merit an honest answer.

"My dear, I am, or should I say was, a hunter just like you, and I believe I should know these things. You will get used to it." Gehrman sighs, as he returns to looking at the fireplace. "This was once a safe haven for hunters, a workshop where hunters used blood to enhance their weapons and flesh." He gestures to the crafts table littered with bolts and vials. "We don't have as many tools as we once did but you are welcome to use anything you find. ...Even the doll, should it please you."

His last words were murmured like an afterthought, but the implications were not lost on either of them as they shared yet another glance. This was a strange place, but no doubt it held purpose if it led them here. Leaving Gehrman to his thoughts, Lien walks past the craft table, eyeing chips of metal and spines of books as she rounds a makeshift altar.

Slight sounds of padding feet on carpet alerts her to her companion as he browses the shelves of incompletely forged weapons. She is distinctively aware of him shooting glances at the man on the wheelchair, but this she chooses to ignore, running her fingers over crimson-stained bottles. A slip of paper catches her attention, hidden within the pages of a book, and she frowns as she pulls it out and reads the words of scribbled ink. Suddenly the workshop didn't seem so welcoming anymore, the fire crackles too loud in the silence and the breaths of Gehrman too quiet and still.

She is out of the open door before she could stop herself, heart thudding loudly as her grip on the saw cleaver tightens. Deep breaths, in and out. All around her white flowers sway, petals a sharp-edged velvet. She thinks she's seen them before in a distant dream, but her memories remain lost even as she grasps desperately for something she cannot remember.

Footsteps follow her wake, and she turns to find Lukas looking at her with growing confusion.

"Lien," he says, and she shuts her eyes as her body stirs in reaction. Why? Why did the way he utter her name sound so familiar? "Are you alright?"

She nods silently, unable to answer as she swallows the sudden lump in her throat. The emotion within his eyes does not go away. His hand rises, as though to touch her, but he drops it before it meets her arm, letting the silence stretch into a disquiet tension.

"Let's go back to the clinic," he says softly, finally, as they watched the shadowy curve of the doll's shoulder merge into the stone wall. "There is something I want to inspect."

...

The woman introduced as Iosefka sighs even as she hands them a two vials of blood through the cracks of the locked doors. "I'm sorry," she says again, tone matter-of-fact. "But this is all I can offer. The patients here in my clinic must not be exposed to infection. You understand, don't you?"

Lukas holds back his tongue as he pockets his vial, hiding his disappointment. Ex-patient or not, it seems that the doctor was not letting them back in. Lien hums in acknowledgement, though not unkindly, and Iosefka sighs again, relieved.

"I pray for your safety both. Now go, and good hunting."

This time, their route back into the outside was retraced with ease, and they find themselves close to mansion that made up the lower levels below Gilbert's residence, wet cobblestones and immobile dogs trailing their wake. Lukas finds his eyes returning to the aqueduct, and he takes steps towards a ladder leading downwards to the sewers. He turns around to make a passing comment, yet his words halt abruptly when he notices golden eyes staring at him, the distance between two people marginally further as his companion stands in the middle of the street, unmoving.

"I never did thank you for pushing me out of that Yharnamite's way." Her voice was quiet as she finally speaks, brushing away the silence that clouded them both.

"You don't seem like the sort to say those things for these kinds of actions." His reply earns him a small blink as he takes a step back. She does not follow.

"Lien..."

"I told you didn't I?" She lifts the cleaver and swings the handle experimentally. The weapon clangs, the saw blade extending until it was twice the length of its original range span. Her eyes find his again and he expels breath, cloth hood dropping from his head as he mimics her, tapping the threaded cane on the ground to expose its blade. An explosion of whips surge from the cane as he swings it, metal melting as the sound of cracks echo in an air devoid of human life.

Surprise lights her eyes at the blows, reflecting his when the fluid whips return to solid metal as he rests the tip of the cane on the ground. Lukas recovers easily enough, masking his pleased expression at the discovery as he looks upon her. What a peculiar weapon.

"I don't suppose my skill has wowed you enough for you to change your mind?"

Her mouth twitches, and he gets the strangest urge to return her smile. Only the thought of her leaving restrains him, and his mouth twists into a frown as she backs away to the path leading back into the central town of Yharnam.

"Goodbye, Lukas. Try not to get snarky at any more polite townsfolk."

"Be careful." Words leave his mouth once again, unbidden. Foolish, unneeded words, because they were hunters, and hunters always knew better. Lien nods, but he catches the fluster in her eyes as she backs away, unwilling to look at him. The mere knowledge of the gesture makes him smug, though he does not know why.

Familiarity.

"See you in the morning, my friend."

...

* * *

 _II_

 _Workshop_

 _To escape this dreadful Hunter's Dream, halt the source of the spreading scourge of beasts, lest the night carry on forever._

...

.

Lien flicks her wrist, swinging the saw cleaver sideways and hearing the crunch of bone. The Yharnamites' yells rattle her ears as they stagger and fall to the ground, and she flinches as blood splatters and dirties her newly acquired coat. With trained ease she twists to avoid the jaws of a mutant dog, piercing the pointed edge of the saw through its throat. The rabid hound whinnies as it collapses, and quickly she goes around collecting dropped bottles of vials and loot as angry shouts of approaching men loomed closer.

A bullet crashes into her arm, fracturing bone, and with a pained grunt she falls to her knees. Dropping the saw cleaver she executes a barrel roll into the cover of a wilting tree, raising her pistol and firing silver bullets between the cracks of a headstone into the open. The sniper drops with a soft thump to the ground, and swiftly she retrieves her weapon, injecting a blood vial into her veins as she runs into the shadows of cluttered buildings.

Carrion crows lunge at her, screeching curses midair as their too-heavy bodies fall limply to the ground. Oddly enough, their bodies dropped droplets of blood dew she finds easy to consume, and these fills her with strength as she transverses through the town, steps light and quiet as she walks and sneaks her way past torch-bearing men with glazed eyes and indistinct mumbling.

The smell of incense alerts her to the few remaining unaffected natives hiding within their homes, but every attempt to speak with them is rebuked and laced with curses and undermined loathing and fear. Gilbert had been right about the hostility of the locals. After a while she stops trying, keeping her distance from the glowing red lamps that alerted her to a resident of Yharnam. It was the least she could do, on the day like this that struck terror into every being she has seen.

A Hunt. What did it even stand for? She thinks back to the scrap of paper she found back in the Hunter's Dream and frowns, remembering her loss of composure.

Yharnam was not what she had expected it to be, full of beasts and men half-mad. Something about the blood and madness seemed a little more grisly and dark than usual, even though she had no idea what it would have been like before.

The silhouette of a well on the second level of the fountain plaza catches her eyes immediately when she enters its confines, surrounded by patrolling men. With cautious sneaking she baits the Yharnamites away from the dogs, disposing of them and the sniper before the latter few finally sense her presence.

With angry snarls the hounds bound forward from the well. Her pistol fires bullets made of blood, but the victims only scream and recoil for a moment before advancing. Golden eyes widen at their sudden increase of speed, and Lien barely manages to swing the extended saw blade forward before they were upon her. Claws scratch and tear at her skin as she rolls backwards and counters, bashing the saw cleaver into the masses several times in quick succession.

Putrid breath hits her nose as one of the hounds ram into her side and bites down. She brings the hilt of the cleaver down on its head just as its teeth sinks into her side, watching the spurt of red that drenches them both as her blood pulses and her weapon and body absorbs. Her wound fades into a faint mark as she stands back up from the regain, making quick work with the rest of the dying dogs.

Another blood vial used, and the faint mark disappears, leaving only a faint numbing sensation on her side.

She heaves a panting breath as she wipes the blood from her face, smoothing the hardy material of leather over her side before she continues. Deformed beasts and huge, hulking trolls block her way the further she progresses and finds her way through Central Yharnam. Before long she finds herself on the upper levels of town overlooking the paths and routes she has taken before, a hidden wooden ledge catching her attention.

Gently she hops down the wooden protrusion, and the sunlight dims as she finds herself in the upper chambers of an underground canal. The stench of decay is overwhelming as she drops to the bottom passageways, avoiding the pattering of giant rats as she slips pass beasts and stray Yharnamites. It's waters had long since dried up, leaving oozing mud and docked boats, but what remains within the dim, dank cavern walls of the canal was nothing Lien found particular interest in.

The thought of the canal linking with the aqueduct and sewers almost makes her pause as she beheads a prowling beast and climbs metal ladders leading upward. Contemplative navy eyes brushes her memory, but she pushes the thought away as she reaches the top, dispatching the murder of crows lying in wait for her behind a crate of barrels. A glowing object catches her eye; a cracked human skull, and a peculiar sensation washes over her as she picks it up and holds it within her hands. The skull turns to dust and crumbles through her fingers as she blinks, shaking her head. She felt elevated in a way somehow, but she pays it no mind for more pressing matters at hand.

Gates are unlocked and opened, and Lien finds herself back at the fountain plaza again. With a miffed expression she heads another way, twisting into broken warehouses and climbing ledges onto wooden beams, determined to find a way out of the twists of the town into Cathedral Ward.

A particular arched hole on the ceiling of one warehouse led out to solid ground via a rackety path of rubble. Crossing it she reaches the stone balcony on the other end and notes the bridge she could see in the distance, marking her path as she had travelled.

Instinct leads her to brandish her pistol and turn at the soft flare of feathers behind her, only to lower it slightly as the crow mask of a hunter meets her gaze. A cape of black feathers covers the ragged buttoned coat the hunter wears, the latter flaring into two slips of cloth from the belt down. The hunter's arms were crossed with no intent to harm, and slowly she drops the gun, taking a step back.

"Sharp, are you?" A woman's accented voice hums from beneath the mask, bemused, and she flushes. "But not quick enough. What a mess you have been caught up in, outsider. And tonight, of all nights." She holds her palm out, blood vials in her grasp as she gestures to Lien. When she finally accepts with hesitant fingers the crow hunter retreats, leather-bound fingers flipping the cape of feathers that cover her coolly.

"Here, to welcome the new Hunter. Prepare yourself for the worst; there are no humans left. They are all flesh hungry beasts now."

"Beasts?" Lien inquires as the crow hunter turns away from her, gazing down the precipice of the stone cliff. When the hunter does not answer she walks closer, stilling when the pointed beak of the crow's mask swerves back pointedly to jut at her.

"Still lingering about? What's wrong?"

"I have questions I'm hoping you can provide the answers for." But she cannot help the backward glance as the screech of a pained creature echoes in the dusty air together with the tolling of bells. The chimes sounded much closer than before; Cathedral Ward could not be far away.

"Heh,... you young ones are always clamouring for answers you don't have. Take it from me, answers will come in due time. For now, enough trembling in your boots. A hunter must hunt." The crow hunter grunts, looking forward again as the screaming fades. "Tensed, are you? Well, no matter if a hunter's unnerved by a few beasts. Without fear in our hearts, we are little different from those creatures themselves."

The cryptic words stick even as she leaves the crow hunter to her own devices, dissatisfied with what she had learnt. Lien finds herself making roundabout turns as she leaves the maze of gothic houses, hesitating once as her cleaver comes down on the spine of a greyish beast. An inaudible breath as her head clears. Never mind the big problems; hunters had an obligation to hunt, regardless of what monstrosity was presented to them. As of now, she had to focus on keeping her life as she finds reason for her amnesia.

Flights of steps lead her up the side of a stone bridge, eroded and vandalised with missing pieces of stone bricks and uneven flooring, but still bigger and grander than all the other bridges she had crossed so far. Marble statues of humanoid figures lined the sides of the path, faces covered or deformed as they bent over with burdens or clutch their hands up towards salvation. Stone arches decorate the bridge as she walks further down, guarded by aggressive beasts and resting crows.

A troll nears her, attempting to smash her body with a loose brick. Lien dodges easily enough, getting behind the hulking monster and slicing through the tendons on the underside of its knees before stabbing the saw cleaver into its chest. Dispatching the troll and other creatures that block her way, she advances carefully, eyes taking in the ten-metre high wall that masks the contents within and the intimidating iron gates at the end of the bridge, closed and unwelcoming.

Spires of turrets and towers can be seen stretching upward from behind the gates, church buildings ancient and mythical. A bell tolls again, echoing within the buildings behind the gate, and Lien blinks, certain of her position. The entrance to Cathedral Ward, locked and shut. How convenient, on a night like this.

A guttural cry pierces her ears as she moves closer, and Lien inhales sharply as the enormous form of a beast leaps over the stone wall. Lupine eyes find hers as it screeches again, the same cry she heard back at Gilbert's house. Disfigured horns morphs from its skull, and ragged fur grew in rough detached tufts from the bone. Its bare ribcage was still drenched red with bits of flesh sticking to it, lopsided arms extending claws. The cleric beast snarls, taking a running leap towards her.

Lien barely had time to roll forward and dodge the set of heavy feet that smashes the ground behind her, cracking stone. With a hard gasp she twists behind, saw cleaver scraping bone and flesh with a jarring noise as she backs away, nimble hands coming to grab the pistol as she fires. The cleric beast shakes its head, unaffected from the shots. It makes to swipe at her head, missing and slamming into the abandoned carriage next to her. Wood pieces litter the ground, splinters hitting her back as she darts forward and slashes at the beast's head.

The beast writhes and lashes out, twisted hand slamming her into the side of the bridge, sharp tendrils of pain causing her to cry out as her ribs snap. The sharpness numbs when she jabs blood vials into flesh, bones already mending as she rolls to the side and stumbles forward, cleaver extending to draw blood and screams from the creature as it makes to stand.

The shattering of glass on the beast's chest turns its head in the opposite direction, and Lien drives her weapon into grey thighs, trembling hands a frenzy as blackish blood spurts and bones crack, swerving from scratching claws as she lands blow after blow between its legs. The pungent odour of oil permeates the air as rivulets of the greasy liquid drips down the beast's body, staining parts of her coat. Quickly she makes distance between her and the beast, narrowed eyes glancing back once to see a spark flying to hit its ribcage.

An inhumane screech fills the stifling air as flames engulfed the cleric beast. With an angry groan it falls to the ground, claws dragging cobblestones as it crouches and leaps towards the direction of the spark. Another spark flies through the air, reigniting bones and flesh on fire. Lien limps backwards, dropping the used blood vial in her hands as she sees metal sparks of another hunter fighting the beast, harsh clangs amid the guttural screaming that rings out and hurts her ears.

The cleric beast lunges forward, and she watches the grey colour of a cloak puff up as the hunter leaps clear from the side, rolling forward before turning back to throw another object at it. Flames continue to lick greedily at the beast's skin as it roars, incensed. A mutated claw swipes at the wave of bullets that aimed for its head, bashing the ground and clawing its way to the hunter, seizing him in its hands. Her grip on the saw cleaver tightens, and Lien makes a run for the beast, swiping the blade at its jaw just as its claws closes around the hunter, mouth opening to rip the latter apart. With a grating screech it loosens its grip, dropping the hunter as it grasps its head and staggers.

Lien ducks, aiming for the side of its face as the hunter joins her, bloody axe slashing and drawing blood on the other side of its skull. They back away in tandem just as the cleric beast stands, and Lien feels sturdy fingers pull her away from the molotov's reach as the flying object sets the creature on fire again. Under the heat of the flames, her face twists to see the figure, taking in broad shoulders and shades of beige locks, dusted with the colour of ash.

Dark eyes visibly flinch as they look upon her, fingers loosening their hold on her arm.

"You.." The hunter begins, but his next words are lost in the snarl of the monster. The cleric beast lunges, and Lien pushes the hunter away just as subulate claws tear at her arm and curls inwards, flinging her off to the side and onto the pile that remained of the broken carriage. Gaping flesh and exposed bone stung as her arm hangs limply down her shoulder, broken and twisted. This time the pain left her unbearably numb, and Lien closes her eyes as she coughs up blood, her other hand struggling to pull out the remaining blood vials from her coat.

She vaguely hears the shouts of the other hunter as the shadow of a hulking beast falls over her. The cleric beast snarls, lifting its claw as it prepares to strike. Blood splatters the ground as it cries out, and the last thing Lien sees is the enormous palm ramming down on top of her as the tips of its horns began to glow and dissolve.

...

"If you hunters got off your arses, we wouldn't be in this mess! You're obligated to help me, you hear?" The loud lilt of an elderly lady criticises from behind a wooden door, and the man resists the urge to retort as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

"With all due respect ma'am, this mess would be a whole lot worse without the hunters to clear the beasts right in front of your door."

"Shut it! I don't want to hear that from you, you good-for-nothing hunter."

Lukas grunts, grimacing as he glances back at the mangled body of the dead dog he had culled a little ways from the woman's house. The mongrel had been growling and barking nonstop at the rosy lanterns of incense outside the door, ceasing only after he had landed a mercy blow to its skull. Contrary to what he had thought, not even an ounce of gratitude came from the occupant in this house, and he is coming to regret even picking off the dog, for even the drops of coldblood he got in return were not worth the angry tirade he was at the receiving end of.

"Well?" The old lady sniffs, and his grip on the thatched cane tightens as he breathes out, exasperated.

"Well what?"

"You gonna tell me about any safe places or not?"

"I would if I know of any. Besides, shouldn't the incense keep you safe?"

"Shutting up indoors isn't always enough. Hmph, a fat lot of good you outsiders do. Don't come back unless you find a safe place, ya hear?"

Lukas gives no response as he walks away, swallowing the snarky comment on the tip of his tongue. The last words of his ex-companion ring in his mind, and he stops, blinking away irritation as calmness returns to him. The air in the sewers had been clammy, leaden with undead corpses and giant mutated rats with growths on their skin. When extended, the whips off his bladed cane made for good range, and with his new weapon, it had been easy enough to make quick work of enemies and advance forward.

The path underground had split, the first leading him above ground and up steep paths of stone that trail higher up to the upper districts of Yharnam. From here he could catch glimpses of the sewers and canal below, making up the foundation of which the town was built on. Bottles of blood vials half full lay sewn around the ground when he turns the next corner, corpses of men slump against the fence and walls of quiet, too-still houses, the flesh already starting to rot.

He picks the vials without comment, leaving the pile of bodies behind as he pushes forward, hopping down platforms and gaining the element of surprise on an unlucky beast. It falls, multiple lacerations on its face and neck as he swings his cane, gaze cold as he goes back into the sewers. Water drips from the ceiling as he moves under the shadows, drawing blood and minimal noise as he cuts down patrolling trolls and half-transformed wolf beasts.

A particularly hard bat to his side by a furious troll sends him falling into the canal, and Lukas narrows his eyes in annoyance as he rights himself properly in time to avoid slipping on half dried mud, ears taking in the loud squeaking and skittering of giant rats. The rodents gather around him, snouts twitching in excitement as they raise their feet to reveal sharp claws. Lukas draws the sharp metal of his thatched cane, swerving to the side as a rat bats at him, thrusting the blade into the nearest rodent and hacking at its flesh. Squeals of pain resound in the dark caverns, echoing louder than the sound of whiplash as he jabs and stabs.

When the last rodent drops dead the hunter adjusts the hood of his new cape more securely over his head, collecting his loot before travelling further down the mud-driven path. Undead corpses rise sluggishly from slobs of mud as he runs past, hands clambering in vain as metal cuts through their bodies. Lukas fights until he has no choice to avoid the endless swamp of animated dead bodies, escaping via ladder as he picks his way out from the sewers again.

Crows bodies litter his path as he walks on, knocking on doors next to burning incense as he inquires for directions. The ill-mannered attitudes of the townsfolk leaves him, more often than not, snarking back, relishing in the slight splutter and recoil of indigence in their voices before they scream for him to leave. Regardless of what Lien said, he couldn't help himself. Besides, the Yharnamites were just asking for it; most of them not sharp tongued enough to rebuke back.

Another ladder unreachable by beasts leads him up to a cordoned off path, blocked by closed gates. With a soft push the iron lattice opens with a rusted creak, leading him out to a deserted plaza. Lukas eyes the house to his side lying just before the gates, watching the swirl of incense dissipating into the air. Silently he approaches the window, noting there was no door on this side of the wall that he could see, and that the house was built into the side of a fort.

His taps on the metal bars over the window were quiet, gaze intent on the flickering lights behind closed curtains as he braces himself for suspicious voices and the strings of verbal abuse that he was sure would follow. To his surprise, a soft gasp sounds from within, and he blinks back curiosity at the faint cluttering noise of an object dropping on the floor. Soft, clumsy movements wreck the inside of the house when he taps the metal bars again, but he waits patiently for the occupant to steady themselves, watching the light flicker from within.

"Uhm, Hello? I know that smell... Are you a hunter?" The nervous voice of a little girl finally answers, and he relaxes. Finally, someone besides the outsider who might be able to provide help.

"Yes, I am. Hello," he finds himself talking quietly, the beginnings of any tart comment dissolving from his lips. "Can I ask you to point me in the direction of Cathedral Ward?"

"I… uh huh." Her voice cracks as she relays him directions to the great bridge, and Lukas frowns, eyes glancing back the way he came at the noises of dragging feet and distant animalistic noises.

"What's wrong?" He asks, though he suspects that whatever it was would have to do with him offering assistance. Even so, the miserable tone of the little girl's voice troubled him so much so that he couldn't help but enquire.

"It's just, will you look for my mum, please? Daddy never came back from the hunt, and she went to find him, but now she's gone too... I'm all alone… and scared…" His frown deepens when he hears her swallow tears. The urge to ignore and turn down the request tempts him for a moment before his conscience gets the better of him. The girl had provided him with assistance, and he was not so cruel as to deprive her of the knowledge of her family's safety when it was well within his means. Lukas sighs internally, defeated, his choice already made. Paleblood would just have to wait a little longer.

The girl's voice brightens when he inclines, voice trembling with unshed tears as she thanks him. Chains unlock as the window opens with a soft click, and her arm reaches out to place a small wooden box in his hands. "My mum wears a red jewelled brooch. It's so big and beautiful, you won't miss it. A-Also, if you find her, please give her this. It plays one of daddy's favourite songs. And when daddy forgets us we play it for him so he remembers." She laughs, the first genuinely happy sound he has heard all day. "Mum's so silly, running off without it!"

Lukas runs his fingers across the music box, feeling the worn edges and rusted clasp as he traces the carved patterns with his eyes _._ "Stay put while I find your parents, alright?"

"I will, thank you! I, I hope you come back soon!"

He opens the lid once he is out of earshot, catching a glimpse of words on the scrap of paper within as a tinkering melody begins to play. Soothing and gentle, but there was something about the tune that refused to put him at ease; perhaps the presence of minor keys at odd placements or the pauses between notes left him feeling empty after. Whatever the case, he shuts the box and pockets it, running the names over in his head.

Viola and Gascoigne.

He becomes increasingly uncomfortable the longer he ponders, feeling as though he had stumbled upon a private moment not meant to be shared. Pushing the thought away he straightens and leaves the gates, walking into the plaza. The smell of blood was pungent, and Lukas notes the pile of slain hounds lying on the uneven floor, their remains slashed into disfigured pieces. A carrion crow perches near the bodies, squawking warningly as he came closer. It lunges when he throws pebbles at it, but he backsteps with ease, swinging the cane forward as it falls and exposes its throat.

The crow falls twitching to the ground, and Lukas silences it with another blow to the head. Something glints within his peripheral vision, the butt of a sniper's gun, and he ducks, rolling behind the pile of hound corpses as shots fire at the spot he stood on prior. He hears the reloading click of a rifle and the sound of footsteps skimming across the plaza. A slight peek outwards sends a shot flying past his nose, and quickly he ducks back into the safety of the blockade, cocking the blunderbuss in his hand.

Shoes scuffle closer under the slick stone, and Lukas jumps out of the pile, firing multiple blood bullets without aiming. The sniper reels as the metal streaks graze his arm and sides, one lucky shot finding home in his stomach. He makes to shoot, but the hunter parries his gun, sending the shot out of bounds into a stone wall. Lukas twists the cane in his grasp, turning it over so that the blade sinks into the chest of the man as he delivers a stabbing thrust, sinking hilt deeply into flesh. The sniper shudders with a dying scream as he pulls the cane out with violent force, an explosion of blood coating the ground and his weapon as he stands back and watches detachedly as the body falls.

When a quick check showed no more enemies in the vicinity, Lukas loots the dead man of his remaining bullets with practised motions before leaving. The second level reveals a well, and he uses it to mark his path as he travels deeper into the town in search for the girl's parents. His route leads him back into the sewers, the now familiar sloshing of mud around his boots making him twitch in annoyance. But even though laborious, he had to admit that the channels made for good shortcuts through Yharnam, inhabited and roam by sluggish corpses and patrolling trolls that were easy to sneak past.

The sewers led him further inward, and before long he finds himself in a different part of town, the damp caverns opening for light to shine down. A tunnel branches off, leading further into foggy dampness he cannot see through. At its entrance was a ladder leading up onto dry ground. It takes him mere moments to make his choice, fingers grasping metal as he pulls himself out of reach from moving corpses. Lukas emerges to the sight of another bridge, squinting at the harsh glare of the sinking sun.

Stone pavements mirror the direction of the foggy tunnel below, connecting the town to a walled burg of jutting towers and angular courtyards and balconies. Streetlamps shaped like miniature stone effigies pave way for visitors, but tonight there was only him, the loose stone beneath his feet tapping a lonely, mournful tune as he sets foot and walks across.

Visible flickers of light levitate in the mess of dust that obscures vision, sparking warnings as he approaches. The lights turn to fire, and Lukas pulls out his cane as men with pitchforks and swords rush towards him aggressively. Their attempt to surround him fails as blade melts into whips, lashing at their sides and the ground warningly. The Yharnamites waver only for a moment, fear morphing quickly into anger and disgust as they charged and raise their weapons with intent to kill.

Lukas ducks and parries under the weight of an axe, backing up as their strikes grew with discord. Someone grabs at him from behind, and he jerks, pulling the assailant to his left to take a thrusting sword aimed for his side. He avoids the sting of burning flames as torches swing for his face, wincing as sparks and ash crackle near his eye, splattering onto his skin. Blazing heat grows hotter across the entire bridge, and he widens his eyes at the sight of a huge flaming cannonball on fire rolling his way. He lunges for the side, slamming into the body of a Yharnamite as he shields himself in the slight recess of space away from the ball's reach. The unluckier rest were left with no way to protect themselves, and it was with screams of pain that they perished, the flaming ball obliterating all obstructions that stood in its way.

The Yharnamite beneath him struggles, knee jerking into his stomach. Lukas grunts, pushing himself off and doubling over as the former sticks a knife into his abdomen. Hissing in pain, he pulls out the blunderbuss, firing bullets until the Yharnamite slumps on the foot of the parapet. The blood vial he pulls out holds no needle, so with shaking hands he pries the vial open and pours the blood down his throat, gasping as the euphoric rush swells over him. The direct taste of it was overwhelming, cold and watery and disgustingly nourishing. Hurriedly he picks at the dead Yharnamite's waterskin lying on the ground, uncapping the lid and finding relief as drops of fresh water run down his open palm. He downs most of the liquid before splashing the remainder on his face, wiping away stinging ash and dirt from his eye and washing away the taste of blood in his mouth as he feels the stab wound close up.

It's scars will fade, just like all his injuries do.

He walks on forward, seeing the figures of troll and man materialise at the top end of stairs at the end of the bridge. The remains of fire flicker in the latter's hands, and closer observation as he baits the troll forward down the steps see him noticing the enormous cannonballs stacked to the side.

So that was what it was.

His mouth moves to form an amused quirking of lips as he slashes at the troll, cane shifting as he parries and lands a backstab, pushing deep within flesh and bone. The Yharnamite runs forward as the troll topples over, and Lukas pulls the cane out, splattering blood on the man as he twists, whips smacking and drawing lacerations on skin.

A team, in tandem.

A peculiar ache courses through him as his cane returns back to sturdy metal. Lukas blinks, wiping the trace of bitter fancy off his face as he picks coldblood and vials from the ground before heading up the path of sleek stone. It was a senseless want anyways, knowing him, knowing her, knowing hunters. He would probably never see her again, whatever words he had said before be damned.

The architecture here was cleaner, grey but untouched from blood and damage. A single set of stairs led him up to a stone arch, the keystone reflecting dull reflections from what faint light shone down. The courtyard within was wet with mist, crumpled tombstones fencing withered trees still from death. Coffins lean on stone walls, the smell of rot only growing stronger as he takes silent steps into the premises, watching the figure of a hunter swinging a halberd down onto a body heedlessly.

Flesh squelches beneath feet as the hunter turns slowly to look at him, breath forming small clouds as he exhales. Broad shoulders covered by a flimsy scarf while a hat sends faint shadows over his face, but still Lukas sees him; a ragged old man with bandages over his eyes. His build was huge, and he towers over him like a sentient beast watching in wait.

"..Beasts all over the shop." The man sighs harshly, canines protruding from his mouth. His back levels, halberd propped threateningly over his shoulder as his face tilts. Even with bandages, Lukas could feel the heavy weight of a gaze on him. "You will be one of them, soon enough."

"I'm afraid I don't understand." Lukas replies, hand resting over the blunderbuss underneath his coat. "I just want an answer, then I will be on my way."

The man laughs, a raspy, mocking, tired sound. "You will find no answers here, hunter. Only beasts.. that need to be culled."

The air crackles with static as both shots find their marks intercepted. Lukas ducks into the cover of tombstones as the hunter cracks his firearm, halberd swinging forward as he leaps around the cracked stones to land a blow. Axe clash against angling blade, and Lukas leaps out of the way as the hunter slashes at empty air, bloodthirsty whips nicking his opponent with small tears of fabric and cuts of blood on his arm.

A close shot sends him stumbling as he backs up behind several tombstones, and in the blink of an eye he finds the halberd coming down from above him. He is almost too late to parry, but he puts in enough force that the resulting collusion gives him precious seconds to knock the hunter back and null the damage. A knife flicks in his hand, but when he brings it downward onto flesh the sharp clink of metal buttons and buckles diverts his aim to the side, cutting through minimal skin as he pulls back.

"I don't want to fight you." He bites out as he springs away, but the hunter merely grunts in response, mumbling indistinctly as he launches rapid-fire shots into the mist before pursuing. Lukas keeps his head low as he deflects and dodges the bullets, grinding his teeth together as one gorges a hole through his shoulder. A flight of stairs on the other end led away from the courtyard, and he stands at the edge of the bottom step as he draws the threaded cane, darting forward to draw blood as whips lash and rip at cloth and skin. Two bullets burrow themselves into the hunter's chest, making him stagger and grunt in pain before the sting of another whip cuts him off.

The hunter growls, angry and deep, but he barely heals as he pushes forward, taking Lukas by surprise as he catapults right into him, slamming him against the iron railings with the back of his halberd. Lukas slumps over, mouth parted in painful reflex as his fist makes contact with the hunter's abdomen. One swing of his cane sends the latter stumbling backwards down the steps, and he picks himself up, indigo eyes glinting with vehemence as the hunter grunts again, pistol raising to fire.

The shot crackles at his heels, pushing him upwards as he crouches behind stone rails. Metal clashes as the hunter makes a swift leap up, halberd swinging in quick succession, parrying every wave of blade and whips that deflects him. An opening, the blast of a blunderbuss at the edge of the spike, and a cane, jabbing forward for a straight thrust to the heart. But it is a jab too slow as the weapon is abruptly thrown off course and the width of an axe blade digs into his torso, pulling him up.

With a loud roar the hunter throws him across the terrace, slicing his chest open as he heaves the halberd in a giant arc. Lukas slams against the wet ground, sending loose chips of stone flying into the air as his body twitches from the abuse. With a pained exhale he rolls over, stabbing a blood vial into his arm as he stands on his knees, bruised and battered. Aching fingers fumble, igniting a molotov before throwing it at the hunter with zero hesitation. This time the shouts that wreck the man when the fires burn and ravage his form bordered on being inhumane.

A quick glance to the side spies part of the rails broken, the roof of an old shed beneath providing an easy but precarious platform to stand on. He makes his decision in a split second, running and dropping onto it just as the hunter bashes the ground where he last stood, shaking away the last of fires as he heals.

Feet skid on the slippery surface, and Lukas has to twist his feet apart to avoid stepping on the female corpse lying face down on the thatched roof, her dress a bright splatter of colour in the otherwise dreary courtyard. In the dim light something glints around her neck, the object hidden beneath the collar of her dress, and carefully he touches the chain around her neck. The necklace comes undone with a touch of his fingers, and he pulls at the object, ducking down and stepping back as the hunter jumps down to join him.

Slate tiles creak warningly as the hunter brandishes his gun, boots heedlessly stepping on part of the woman's dress, but a hard kick sends him off the roof and tumbling to the ground before he could even aim. Lukas throws another molotov after him at the show of blatant disrespect, eyes flicking back to the body once as he thumbs at the object in his hands.

The metal ornament was aged and had lost its sheen a long time ago, but the gem that sits in the middle of was ruby red, description unmistakable. A red brooch.

A wave of contempt and horror sweeps through him as he glances back at the dead body again, noticing the slash marks that marred her torso. Revelation was bittersweet, and his fists clenched the cane harder. Below him the hunter pants as the last of the flames smoulder out, sniffing the air like a hound.

"The sweet blood.. oh how it sings to me." His mumblings turn more unstable as he shakes his head. With a loud cry his halberd smashes against the side of the shed, and the wood creaks as the structure trembles. "It's enough to make a man sick."

A swish of cloth, and Lukas is in front of him in seconds. With a poised strike the threaded cane meets its mark across the hunter's chest, every blow landing heavier than the last. Lukas hacks until he slaps the hunter out of range, whips tugging around throat and ripping scarf as he pulls. "You are a hypocrite, _Gascoigne_." He hisses, but the cutting remark is lost to the wind as the hunter howls in pain suddenly, halberd and firearm slipping from his hands as he clutches his head.

His cries turn more feral as he sinks to the ground, and Lukas widens his eyes at the blast of energy that swamps through the courtyard, knocking him backward. A screeching howl fills the silence as he looks up at the transformed beast, the body of a man no more. It lunges at him with speed faster than he could gauge, bashing him into the ground with its incisors and puncturing his hands and arms with bleeding wounds. Glass vials and bullets spill from his pockets as Lukas locks the threaded cane against gaping maws, struggling for leverage as his hands tremble under the weight of the snarling beast.

The loud thunk of an object hitting the ground registers faintly in his ears, but it is the familiar gentle tune of a music box that gets his attention. The beast snarls at the melody, pulling away from him and grasping its head as it convulses. Agonised howls scream into the sky, and Lukas winces as he stands, grip on his blade hard as he parries away scrabbling hands and twists behind its back, sinking the metal of the cane deep into flesh up to the hilt. He does not falter through the haze of pain and the squelching of blood pouring from his wrists at the impact, digging in and angling the cane upwards as organs rupture and flesh rips before slashing sideways, cutting through bone and major arteries.

Showers of blood rain over the wet ground as the beast screams and shudders. Its claws made to scratch and bat with quicker motions when the music box begins to wind down, but already it is too late. Remnants of Gascoigne grasp at the last strands of his humanity when Lukas performs the visceral attack again, clawed hands hesitating to strike before going spastic at the aftershock of the blows.

The beast moans, a dying breath, before falling forward limply at the next strike. Anguished whimpers of both man and beast mix together as body dissolves into greenish light, the last words a whisper that Lukas turns away from, mouth grim as he stands stiffly, holding his bloodied hands close.

"Forgive me..."

The sight of a familiar lantern and a key on the ground greets him when the light vanishes, but he ignores it, picking up his fallen items from the ground and placing them securely again in his coat pockets. He pauses at the half opened music box, closing the lid as his gaze flicks back to the faint outline visible on the roof of the shed. Irresponsible father, he wants to say, but his throat clamps up at the thought of the little girl waiting back in her home.

Gods, how was he going to tell her?

He palms at the red brooch in his hand, shaking with quiet anger. For a long while he is silent, only moving once the misty courtyard dampens his hunter clothing into an uncomfortable stickiness. Ignoring the animated messengers of the lighted lantern he opts to explore, unwilling to return and face the eager look of a child he knows he will feel guilt for.

With the key he opens a pair of locked gates along the pathway by the terrace, following the path as it leads him to a waterlogged room past a small archway. The cold water reaches up to his boot-clad ankles, making noisy sloshing sounds as he climbs a ladder up into a room packed with shelves of books. A table laden with thick parchment and tomes takes up most of the room's centre, but he pays it no attention for now, jabbing a blood vial into his arm when he ascertains that it is safe.

A spiral staircase is the only other way out of the room, leading up to another pair of heavyset doors. The key is used again in the keyhole, and stiff joints creak when Lukas pushes the rigid doors apart. The overpowering smell of incense hits him first when he enters the tall, narrow room, making his eyes water. A chapel, perhaps. Chandeliers hang from the walls, dripping candle wax as license burners of all shapes and sizes fill the room.

The musky odour was almost too strong to bear from his vantage point, but Lukas knew this meant safety, especially on such a night. A huddled figure shifts restlessly on a carpet surrounded by burners by his side, unseen when he had walked in prior, and when he twists around towards it and lifts the cane with sudden ferocity it recoils at the rush of air under cloth.

"Don't hurt me! P-Please, I'm, I'm not a beast!" The huddled figure gasps from within the length of cloth that drapes over its head, and Lukas lifts an eyebrow. Ebbing frustration from the last fight still courses through him, and his eyes glint with barely concealed suspicion and impatience as he tilts the blade of the treaded cane towards the figure's face.

"Where is this place?"

"O-Oedon Chapel sir, in Cathedral Ward?"

Outlines of a jaw and chin shift into view from within the hood when there is no response. "...Oh, you must be a hunter?" The huddled figure shoots a peek upwards and Lukas catches sight of a grey, misshapen face. "Very sorry, the incense must have masked your scent at first. Uhm, good, good. I, I have been waiting for one of your ilk."

Scent, there it was again about a hunter's smell. Lukas shelves the thought for later, nodding once but frowning when the figure does not respond. The silence stretches on, awkward and stifling. Finally he opens his mouth and lowers the weapon, and the dweller visibly relaxes when the cane morphs back to normal, tensing periodically when his cold words wash over him.

"...I hope it's not a search and rescue favour you need me to aid you with."

"Ah, no no." The dweller laughs consolingly, a unnerving, breathy sound that makes him cringe with unease. "But I do have a favour to ask of you, if you don't mind."

...

The soft tapping on stone alerts the man to the newcomer on the stone bridge although he remains unmoving, watching the lantern on the ground glow with light. He looks up only when he sees a pair of boots within his vision, a vexed frown on his face.

"I could have saved her." His mood was dismal as his hand twitches on the handle of the heavy axe slung over his shoulder.

"You could have," the newcomer echoes, regarding the lantern with quiet observance before looking up at the younger hunter. "But what is done is done."

"She saved me Eileen." The man parts his lips into a wan smile, but his eyes flash darkly at the pointed beak of the crow mask, watching it turn an aged yellow under the dusty sky.

"That means you weren't careful enough. Honestly, why did I even thought to check up on you?" The crow hunter turns around, arms crossed. "Count your stars you still dream. This Hunt would be a whole lot worse if you couldn't."

The tapping of footsteps fade, leaving the man alone once more. Gently he fingers the silver badge in his hands, watching the bulbous messengers crowd and sigh to him as he waits.

...

* * *

 _III_

 _Beast_

 _When the great Hunt begin, the Healing Church left us, blocking the great bridge to the Cathedral Ward as old Yharnam burned to the ground that moonlit night._

...

.

 _Shadows brush against the shape of a mark in the boiling sea, wisps of smoke and silk curling round the etched imprint. A trident, turned upside down, as though returning to the sea. Its outer prongs curl inward like incomplete triangles while a single dot stains the tip, untouchable, unreachable. The Devil's hand itself, clawed and waiting to grasp and claim the speck wholly._

 _Slowly the mark grows bigger, encompassing everything in the blackness. Burning and burning and **burning** -_

 _Something squelches in the darkness, moving. Eyes open on the inside, rolling and blinking and sentient. They multiply, growing and growing until they fill the entire burning sea of cinders, there but invisible. The Devil's hand falls, piercing an eye and splattering blood and gore onto the other globular organs while burning smoke disintegrates the rest of the gooey entrails as they plummet down into the abyss._

 _Into dust, into nothing._

...

Lien awakes to soft light, eyes fluttering open as her hand comes to rest over her stomach. Strange, nothing hurt nor felt broken. With rising confusion she stands up, looking over her arms; nothing. There was no sign of wounds sustained from the fight prior with the cleric beast before she had..

She had...

Fingers strove to search in calm motions as her heart rate spikes, finding a few blood vials and various other items she had picked up in her pockets. Silently she looks at her surroundings, watching the Hunter's Dream revolve peacefully around her. White flowers sways rhythmically as she walks past the garden, sharp eyes taking in the doll by the stone stairs leading to the workshop. It was slumped no more, body upright and animated as it stood staring right at her, wooden body bending into a small curtsey as she approaches.

"Hello good hunter." The doll hums, voice airy and light as Lien stops, wary eyes blinking once. "I am a doll, here in this dream to look after you."

"Me?" Lien grimaces internally as her voice comes out strained and parched. There were too many things she didn't understand, too many occurrences she couldn't make heads or tails of.

"Yes." The doll nods in reverence. "You will hunt beasts, and I will be here for you, to channel the echoes of blood into your strength and embolden your sickly spirit."

"And is Gehrman aware of this?" Of you.

"Yes." Her voice is level as her pale lips smoothen back. "He has been here with me since the beginning, though he is obscure, unseen in the dreaming world. Gehrman stays here, in this dream, serving to advise... such as his purpose as this is mine."

"Doll," Lien says suddenly, halting the other's joint of words. "Pardon me for cutting you off, but I need to talk to him."

"Certainly." The doll steps back without missing a beat, gesturing towards the workshop with a tilt of her head. Lien covers the steps with haste, entering the open doors to find the man himself facing the crackling fire. Gehrman turns to her when she draws close, digging her fingers into the sides of the wheelchair as she looks down on him with a hard glint he hardly reacts to.

"What ails you hunter?"

"I shouldn't be here."

An eyebrow raises in curiosity. "Well," Gehrman sighs, looking up to meet her eyes. "and why do you say that?"

"I died." No hesitation as the words ring out in the hollow workshop. Lien keeps her eyes levelled on the old hunter, lips twitching with accusation when he smiles, the lines around his mouth crinkling. Weighing gray eyes bore deeper, flashing with something brooding that makes her unable to meet his gaze. Reluctantly she relents, straightening her back as she lets go of the metal contraptions that made up the wheelchair.

"...As long as you dream, you will always return. Think of it as an advantage; the more beasts you slain, the more lives you save. Besides," Gehrman grunts, maintaining eye contact for a brief moment more before turning back to the fire. "you read the note, you know what to do."

"What happened to me?"

"Your contract extends past your abilities as a hunter, and now you are a hunter living within this dream. Isn't that answer enough?" Cinders spark warningly within the coal pits, threatening to escape and hit the wood floors. Gehrman watches the flames dance, flickering violently as a breeze from the outside stirs the workshop into movement, pages and loose screws shuddering against the force. He closes his eyes, and the breeze lightens up to a gentle rush of air. "The moon is close. It will be a long hunt tonight. If the beasts loom large and threaten to crush your spirits, seek the Holy Chalice, as every hunter before you has."

...

The messengers wave as she leaves the glowing lantern, grotesque heads shivering in the dim light as she rounds the corner and disappears from their view, wooden stairs leading her up to the doors of the clinic. Iosefka calls out to her even before she knocks, as though she had been waiting, relief palpable in her voice from behind closed doors. Her concern was admirable but unfamiliar; not many people in Yharnam have shown her kindness thus far, and she hence she finds herself at a loss of what to say, offering short words of gratitude and acknowledgement as the doctor hands her another vial of her blood through a hole of broken glass.

"He asks for you when he visits, you know? If you have come back to see me." Behind wood the doctor's muffled voice was kind yet tentative, and Lien can hear the bare pinpricks of curiosity beneath the air of cordialness as she stills, fingers locked on the blood vial half-tucked into the fabric of her garb, hiding her own surprise.

When she does not answer immediately Iosefka continues, trying to disband the tension at bay. "I know…this isn't any of my business. But may I ask, why have the two of you split? Tonight is not a good night to go hunting on your own."

A pregnant pause. "We were merely strangers an hour ago. It was a common agenda that brought us together, and when it was done, I took my leave." Lien says slowly, ignoring the twinges of self doubt that prickles her skin.

"Did you? Well, from the way he talked about you, I wouldn't think…"

"He talks to you about me?"

"Y-Yes." She hears the fluster in the doctor's voice. "I promise it was nothing personal. He just sounded... concerned for your wellbeing. If you hadn't told me now, I wouldn't think that the both of you were anything less than..." There was a shuffling motion from within, followed by a sigh, before Iosefka continues, voice back to being as composed and politely apologetic as their first meeting as the topic changes. Yet the spoken words don't dissipate, haunting the hunter as she stares vacantly at the door.

Her fingers twitch. "Less than?" The echoed words come in a whisper Lien could barely hear herself. Her chest felt heavy, her throat clogged, and in a sudden panicked bid she struggles to quell the hard lump within, pressing a palm against her heart as she calm her breathing. The reaction was so abrupt, so sudden, she didn't understand why she felt like so.

"-ah, please do ignore my mumblings. I know I shouldn't be thinking this, but once the night of this hunt ends, I rather look forward to meeting the both of you face to face. Then I can finally see what my visitors look like."

"And I say the same of you." She answers, quiet as her thoughts remained on the uncomfortable ache she felt. She faintly registers hearing the smile in the doctor's voice as the latter replies, overlooking the change of tone from her visitor.

"The night is long, but morning always comes. Someone of your caliber won't fail us, I am certain. So please, be careful out there."

"I will."

The sudden cluttering of objects within the clinic startles both women into silence, and the doctor's voice turns worried as she moves away from the door. "I'm sorry, but a patient needs help. I pray for your safety both. May light shine upon this night and your fortunes."

She is gone before Lien could say anymore, leaving her standing alone on the doorstep. Slowly the hunter lowers her hand from her chest when the pressing weight ebbs, swallowing heavily as she clears her head of the discomfort. A shadowed memory of a giant beast fills her head and she makes up her mind, leaving the clinic with haste.

Turning away from familiar streets leading to Central Yharnam, she heads instead into a new district past a recently unlocked gate, avoiding trolls and starved hounds as she rolls and ducks out of the way. The mutated creatures are persistent in chasing her, but she is nimble enough to lose them through the maze of fences and twisting stairways and levels of the Yharnam streets. Whatever she could not get past she hacks at with her newly repaired saw cleaver, cutting down beasts before they could roam too close.

Bullets are used more freely in the backstreets to silence lurking Yharnamites, but the closer she gets to the great bridge, the more she finds the tactic's effectiveness null, for the sounds of firing would alert surrounding men and beast to her whereabouts. Instead she takes to using throwing knifes she finds on the ground or flaming molotovs for a quicker kill.

The great bridge is still the same since she has last seen it when she reaches, the slain bodies of the troll and crows still lying on the ground. The air was thick with dust, and she holds in the urge to cough and agitate her dry throat as she walks through the stone arch back onto the length of bridge where she had last fought the cleric beast. There was no trace of the creature in sight, but the smell of blood still tinges the air, bloodstains against the bridge floor fresh and recent.

In a distance a metal lantern glows under the dusky sky, an object she was certain that had not been there before. A shadow of gray moves at the edge of her vision before she could take a step towards it, and she turns around, fingers tight around the hilt of the cleaver.

They loosen somewhat when she finds dark eyes staring into her own.

"Well hello." The hunter before her blinks, closing his open mouth before lifting his lips into a smile. His gray cloak sways slightly in the billowing breeze that sweeps past the bridge, woolly fur flecked with specks of blood. "I hope that the sensation of dying didn't confused you too much."

"Is it dead?" If possible, the smile on his lips widened further at her inquiry, and Lien finds herself at a loss on how to respond when he nods offhandedly, stepping closer to dangle an object in front of her eyes. He sounded cheerful, words morbid as looked upon her, seemingly unaffected by the carnage and destruction around them.

The breach of personal space makes her step back quickly, but still she accepts the gift after quiet observance, lifting it up and turning it over with her fingers. A silver sword decorated with ornate cravings on both sides. In the middle where cross guard meets hilt a gem of apatite sits, teal colour lacklustre and blending with the rusting silver of the badge.

"That beast dropped this. But here, for stealing your kill." The hunter says simply as he dusts himself and shifts the handle of a battleaxe between his hands. Beige hair captures the sunlight as he turns, and for the first time Lien catches the colour of his eyes; a brilliant, sharp amethyst that pierces through the murkiness of their surroundings.

A jolt.

"Have... have I seen you before?" She finds herself asking as he turns away into shadow, back towards the gates of Cathedral Ward. Immediately her hand flies to her mouth, chastising thoughts swamping her mind to the brink of being overwhelming. It had been an unconscious motion, and an even more impossible thought, because she knows she has never met him. But yet.

"I'm sorry?" Genuine shock reflects his expression and she shakes her head, dismissing the foolish notion promptly.

"Nevermind, it's nothing."

The hunter smiles at her then, a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he walks towards the direction from whence she came. "Until next time then, Lien. Thank you for saving me earlier."

It barely took a moment for her to realise; alarm spikes through her being, but when she twists around to find him the path beyond was already empty, cobblestones stirring with fine trails of dusty and chipped rubble.

...

Blood trickles down the treaded cane in tiny rivulets as Lukas lifts it, jabbing the weapon at a lunging hound. He flings the scrabbling canine into a wall of barrels, cane slicing a straight line down from its jaws to the stomach. The dying hound makes a last ditch attempt to bite back, but a sharp blow to its head knocks it down, leaving him to regain his strength from the counter.

The window by the fort remains lit as he approaches, eyes contemplative as he watches the candles inside flicker and cast wavering shadows on the porch. The trip back to the clinic had been disconcerting; Iosefka had sounded distant and occupied, a coolness in her voice absent from prior visits. She had not given a blood vial too. Lukas supposed that there was nothing wrong with that; her blood was not the main reason he had come, but in the midst of that alienation she had made an intriguing offer that he couldn't help but ponder over. Interesting, he thinks, because any previous attempts of negotiation had always ended in her being adamant about it.

A grim smirk crosses his face before fading away. Sluggishly he raises a hand, prickles of guilt coursing his veins as he falters. The scent of incense wafting from the red lantern fills his lungs as he stills, mind in dilemma. It is a long time before he knocks on the chains, hearing the empty rattling echo through the forlorn streets.

"Hello mister Hunter, you are back." The little girl says from within, eagerness fading from her voice once noticing the lack of any parent. It only serves to deepen the sting he felt. "Still can't find my mum?"

A choice made, a white lie decided. For her.

"No, not yet."

"Oh, o-okay. I can wait." Her voice lightens, but Lukas can hear the disappointment within them. "But isn't there something I can do? Maybe mum and dad are stuck out there, waiting for me to come to them. What do you think mister hunter?"

"I think you should leave the finding to me." Despite the deception he still finds it in himself to give a miniscule smile. "For now, there is a safe place I need you to go for the night, just until the Hunt is over. Can you do that for me?"

He really was despicable, even if circumstances dictated otherwise. It didn't matter if her father was already half a beast and her mother had died by his hand by the time he found them; their deaths were a responsibility he would willingly carry, if only because he could, for such burdens on a hunter was never an uncommon thing he wasn't used to. What was one more?

"I can!" The amount of trust in her voice was heart wrenching. "Where do you want me to go?"

He tells her, voice soft under the tolls of bells and shouts of men far below the lower districts of Yharnam. A breeze sweeps past, fluttering the flaps of his coat and bringing with it the smell of incense. Her reply comes laced with relief at the realisation that she won't be alone any longer.

"Yes okay, I will go there right away. Thank you so much mister hunter! I, I love you almost as much as mum and dad, and granddad!"

Lukas jerks, widened eyes reflecting shock as he breathes sharply. A soft chuckle leaves his lips as he stares at the window, eyes glinting a dark shade of indigo under the light of the incense burner, burning like the guilt in his heart.

"Leave quickly, and be careful."

"I will mister hunter, I promise."

He retraces his steps back into the fountain plaza, smile slipping from his face as he turns down another corridor, hearing insane laughter and cackling from within some of the occupied houses across the street. The effects of the Hunt was already beginning. Half wolf beasts leap and lunge at him when he bypasses them, strips of ragged clothes still hanging off their distorted frame. Lukas dispatches them easily, hopping down a ledge as he climbs another set of stairs. As he recalled, a certain, rude-mouthed old lady had demanded a place for refuge. Perhaps it was time to pay her another visit.

...

"Yes, I see... But the great bridge is the only way to the Cathedral Ward. And during the hunt, the bridge is closed. Hmm..."

"Is there any other way in, Gilbert?"

From the other side of the window the man hums, mulling over the possibilities. It has been a long time since he has last heard someone uttered his name. It felt nice. "You could try the aqueduct? There's a rather, how shall I put it, colourful area south of the great bridge. From there, an aqueduct leads to the Cathedral Ward."

"Near the dried canal underneath the sewers I'm guessing?"

"Ah, so you have been there?" Relief laces his voice as he rasps.

"Somewhat." The memory of dank, claustrophobic walls and mud-covered beasts makes her twist her lips, and this time Lien is unable to keep the distaste from seeping into her composure, the resulting tone of word making him smile sympathetically.

"Not a place you'd normally want to visit I agree, but I don't imagine you have much of a choice this time. Do you?" The hunter frowns deeper when she catches the rustling of sheets and another hacking cough through the open window, grip tightening over metal frames.

"Gilbert?"

"I, I'm ack-" Painful sounds of wheezing and choked phlegm that were enough to make her wince echoed. "-alright. I'm alright, good hunter. Don't concern yourself with me."

An impossible request, but still she lets it slide, if only to appease what remained of his pride. Silence claims the both of them after his coughs subside, broken only when she taps the metal bar once and straightens. "You have been very kind to me. Thank you." When they had split, her companion had headed straight for the aqueduct. She wonders dimly if it would be considered a fine stretch for them to meet again.

"You are very welcome. But..." She can hear the wheeze in his voice even as he struggles to reply. "Is the other hunter not with you?"

"...No, we went our separate paths." Her response was candid as her gaze drops to the ground, but her mind remains troubled yet again, an occurrence she finds happening more often as time ticks by. To remember only his name; what was it about the man that struck out so much to her? It was a conundrum she couldn't understand.

"Ah... I apologise if it had anything to do with me. I had sensed that he didn't like me very much; that might have caused a rift between the two of you. I'm sorry." Gilbert's voice was sombre, and it sparked a flicker of irritation within her.

"You don't have to apologise for him. We were just temporary companions, and he was being difficult." The words came out sharper than she had intended them to, a rush of déjà vu following as she pressed her lips tightly together. The thought of defending his apologies and her stance of being solo left a bad taste in her mouth, and she half expects the ache from before to return.

"With Yharnam the way it is, I do understand his distrust, but please believe me when I say I have no ulterior motive for any of my actions."

"I do hold you to that." But that was all she said. Inside sickly chambers the man licks his cracked lips and nods. The gesture goes unseen by the hunter outside, but he can hear the crunch of her boots shifting on the sidewalk. He coughs again, numb fingers grasping the edge of the windowsill as he gasps in shuddering breaths, salutation going unanswered.

"Goodbye."

Lien hears coughing when she steps away, the guttural sounds harsh and awful. She does not look back, pushing the concern away as she vanishes behind a corner and descends the slope of corridors. Yharnam was shaped very much like a burg, completed with twisting pathways that lead to all parts of the city if one knew how to navigate. Slipping past patrolling men she drops down the hidden wooden ledge from before, returning to the canal. This time she travels further in, bypassing ladders and pushing charging trolls down the steep ledges into the thick mud below. Sometimes the fall kills them, while enemies that remain alive lose her quickly to the darkness. A convenient way to progress, but other times this strategy brings more trouble than worth.

She realises this when a troll she fights falls into the murky waters after a deep slash sends it staggering backwards. It's low groan fades into oblivion as spine cracks and breaks, but the droplets of blood dew and the oil urn it drops makes her hesitate to leave it alone. In the end she spies a wooden beam halfway down from the ground, situated across stone walls.

Cautiously she drops onto it, stiffening when the wood creaks beneath her weight. The beam was wide enough for her to stand with one foot over the other, and with a quick twist of angle she hops down, splashing water on the corpse besides her. The loot is collected quickly, but her presence is noticed by other distorted beings. A large huntsman walks over, sizing her up under lupine eyes and sharp fangs. Lien puts bullets into it before it could raise its spear, watching it stagger as she stabs and angles the saw cleaver into its flesh.

The huntsman sinks quietly onto the ground, but its place is quickly taken by a circle of rats. One jumps for her arm, and Lien dodges it only for another to sink its teeth into her calf. Muffling her yelp of pain she drives the cleaver into the biting rodent, flinging it off before rolling forward, fingers igniting and throwing a molotov behind her.

The resulting explosion sends the rats squealing, charred bits of flesh splashing into the puddles of water around her. A steep slope comes into view, too close for her to avoid, and she finds herself skidding and falling down into a deeper part of the sewer as she loses her balance. Lien lands on hard ground, sending more splashes of stagnant water into the air. Unbearable ache emits from her twisted foot and bruised limbs, but still she stands gingerly, injecting a blood vial into her calf.

Soft groaning echoes from the mud covered corpses on the ground as she limps forward, though she loses them quickly once the Yharnam blood makes its effects known. Bruises fade and tendons repair as she breaks into a run, leaving the muddy undead behind. Turning a corner she blinks at the faint brightness of outside light, partially obscured by mist. A ladder reveals the way back to the outside world, but this she ignores, gold eyes watching the branching tunnel that lead into a sea of fog instead.

Low groans and caws echo nearby, prompting her to enter the passageway with hurried footsteps, breath light as she sticks close to the wall. Water sloshes at her feet, creating noise she winces at and cannot muffle even with the silent grace as she moves. The deeper in she walks the more pungent the smell of decay and rotting flesh. Squinting her eyes through the mist, she thinks she sees the curved roof opening up into a larger, flat section. And in the middle of the mist, the outline of a giant four-legged creature.

Lien pauses, sizing the shadow up as she pulls and extends the saw cleaver from its place by her belt, the clicking of metal sharp and reverberating in the acoustics of the tunnel. Carefully she creeps closer, hearing heavy grunts and snorts of the creature that only loomed bigger the closer she approaches. A pig, its size mammoth and towering by twice her height. Its back was towards her, breathing nasal as it expels warm clouds through its nose while looking to the side. She is just a few feet from the edge of the widening tunnel when it gives a high pitched squeal, head charging into the tunnel wall by its side. Lien feels the walls shudder at the impact, along with a very human cry and violent sloshing of water as the pig rears its head and roars.

The hilt of her saw cleaver is brandished in her hands before she could think, pure instinct guiding her to lunge and land a blow on the fleshy side of the swine, catapulting her body into the open space as she struggles to dig past fatty tissues to pierce meat. The strangled crying of a human female is louder and apparent in the small, confined space, and Lien struggles to locate the person as the pig squeals and attempts to slam her with its convulsing side against the wall.

She rolls herself out of the way in time to avoid the collusion, boots stepping on bloodied puddles of water as she turns her head to the sound of whimpering. In the far corner of the wall a girl huddles, skirts and shoes scruffy and bloodied. Her eyes were frozen with fear and shock, flicking between the hunter and pig as it shakes its head and stumbles upright.

"Close your eyes and stay still!"

The saw cleaver digs into side of the pig again before it could get its bearings and spot the little girl, but the weapon is quickly rebuked as the pig throws her to the ground, snorting in putrid breaths that choked and made her lungs hurt. Cold water seeps into her clothes as she lands on the floor, dodging stamping hooves as she rolls over and crouches. It makes to headbutt, but she parries with a visceral attack, digging blade into its face and hacking at its cheeks.

Blood spurts and gushes down its legs as she pulls the cleaver out, riding out the scream as the animal spasms. This close she could see the growths that lined its skin; swollen bulges on its back, scars beneath the blood and mud splatters on saggy fat, and was that three eyeballs spouting from one eye socket-

The pig catches her before she could perform the visceral attack again, charging forward and throwing her body into the hard wall. Ribs bruised under the immerse pressure, and Lien slumps to the foot of the wall, shaking fingers clambering for a blood vial as her lungs wheeze with exertion. Tears spring to her eyes from the pain as she pulls herself together, leaning against the wall as she watches it snort at her, blood flowing in greedy dribbles down its disfigured front to stain the damp floor.

The blood vial shatters into pieces as it hits the ground, the noisy clatter distracting the pig long enough for her to cock her rifle and fire a bullet at its face. The pig barely flinches, and with an agitated grunt it paws the ground and makes to charge at her again. The hunter pushes herself away the wall at the last second, rounding and creating distance from the creature's back before executing a charged visceral, thrusting the extended gory weapon into its rear and slashing hard as it hits the wall and totters. With a moan the goliath pig slumps to the ground, dissolving in a burst of green light and enveloping the tunnel in silence.

Water drips down the ceiling of the tunnel, forming a steady rhythm as Lien straightens once establishing that there was no more imminent danger in sight. Soft footsteps approach the cowering girl, accessing the inflicted wounds on her body as she bends down on one knee. Scrapes against the ground has tear holes into her dress while a deep cut across her arm continues to seep blood into her clothes. The latter was the only major injury she could discern, but it would be a wound non-fatal as long as it wasn't infected.

"You can open your eyes now."

Lien was careful to keep her tone quiet and soothing as the girl jerks and trembles. Slowly her eyes peek open as she unfurls herself from her makeshift ball, panicked gaze spilling tears down her cheeks.

"I won't hurt you." At the sound of her voice she flinches again, yet Lien comforts in the fact when she uncurls herself further, lips parting to form words she could not speak aloud. The hunter knows that her grisly weapon and blood drenched clothes wasn't helping much with the situation, but there was nothing she could do to ease her in that regard.

"I am going to help you. Bear with the pain." Gently she places a gloved hand on the girl's knee, moving it to her back only when the other does not pull away. With a soft grunt she stands, arm shifting to encircle waist and support lower body as she picks the girl up. The latter offers no resistance, tensing for a moment before relaxing in her hold, small hands clutching the front of her coat as she folds her saw cleaver with a metallic click and begins to walk. An object winks on the ground where the pig last stood, and the hunter bends to pick it up before running down the path, both arms holding the girl securely to her chest. There will be time to look at it later, but now is not that time.

No creatures lined the rest of the hole as she leaves the confined space behind, splinters of bones coated with slime the only things glinting in the shadows, no doubt from past victims mowed down by the vicious swine. The end of the tunnel leads out to a dry, open space with a ladder; an escape out of the sewer. Carefully Lien places the girl down, pulling a roll of bandages from her pockets. The stretchy fabric had been looted from a cabinet in an abandoned warehouse, the gauze yellowish with age. Fortunately it was neither dirtied nor drenched in blood from previous skirmishes, so she unrolls it and coaxes the girl to stand, fingers peeling away the blood-soaked sleeves to expose the wound.

The girl flinches as blood continues to spill from her cut, sobs threatening to overcome her wrecking body. Hurriedly Lien pulls out the vial of blood Iosefka had given her as she uses a rag to clean the wound gingerly, sharp mind already privy to its special invigorating properties as opposed to ordinary Yharnam blood. She would have used water to sanitise the area as well, but there was no time to find a clean source.

"...Mum doesn't like me touching those b-bottles... She says its dangerous." Lien looks up when she sniffs, trying to hold back her tears at the painful flare. A part of her agrees, for she has seen and has known but the blood can do to people, even hunters. The Yharnamites had been a prime example, succumbing to the bloodlust and turning mad. But she has no choice, not right now if she wants to halt the blood loss and prevent the girl's condition from turning critical.

"I know. I'm sorry," she says as she uncaps the vial and angles the needle. "But I need to stop the bleeding. It will only be a little bit to take the pain away before I get help for you."

The needle is used without much resistance, and Lien whispers her thanks before wrapping the wound up methodically with the bandage, being as gentle as possible. "Why weren't you home?"

"Mum and Dad didn't come back, and I was scared..."

"You shouldn't be here during the Hunt. It's dangerous."

"A hunter told me there was a safe place. I, I didn't want to be alone anymore..." Tears finally spill over as she begins to cry. Lien wrings her hands in alarm, hesitating once before drawing the girl closer, hushing her quietly as she pats her back, a grimness on her lips as she thought about the other outcome that would have happened if she had been just a minute too late in getting through the tunnels.

"T-Thank you for saving me, Miss Hunter." The sniffing noises fade after a while, the child looking up at her while her mouth struggled to pull a brave smile. A warm feeling spreads through the hunter's chest, and she finds herself returning the gesture with an assuring quirk of her lips, wiping the blood away from her cheeks. A bloodied ribbon lands on the ground as her fingers brushes through hair, the pristine white lace almost unseen under the drawn of red. She leaves it alone on the cold stone when the girl refuses to look at it, standing up and downing the remains of Iosefka's blood vial away from view, grimacing at the taste of blood in her mouth.

"The safe place, I will take you there." She touches the bandages spanning from the girl's wrist to elbow before looking up at the ladder. "Can you climb?"

Although injured, the girl nods with a determined gleam in her eyes. The numbing effect of the blood sets in soon enough, and she makes her ascend slowly. Lien waits for her at the very top, pulling her close and leading her into the shadows away from hostile eyes, staying close as the former points to the pathway away from the bridge connected to town.

She leads, clearing the stairs and platforms of any stray wanderers as the girl stays behind in hiding until the coast is clear. Hooded huntsmen holding bowstaffs swing at her when she accidentally kicks a pebble and alerts them to her presence higher up the levels. She kills them quickly, spraying minimal blood over cobblestones and countering a parry jerkily as the remaining man strikes with blunt force. A harsh blow narrowly misses her head and lands on her shoulder, and in retaliation she socks the huntsman in the face, relishing in the sound of bone cracking as she slashes his body cleanly in half.

She makes sure to wipe the blood from her face before turning back to give her smaller companion the signal to come out. The girl looks at her and the fallen bodies worriedly, a look she returns with a nod of calm assurance before heading for the next flight of stairs. They reach a misty courtyard, and Lien feels the girl moving closer to her, hands gripping the sash of cloth around her waist as her eyes dart about the intimidating fog stained with the smell of blood and musk, fear evident in her shaking digits.

Silently the hunter sheaths her pistol, resting the saw cleaver lightly over her shoulder as she holds her other hand out to the smaller miss. A smaller hand slips into her hold immediately, and she smiles as the girl musters enough energy to beam at her, tension leaving her body as she tightens her tiny grip on their joined hands.

The gates on the other end of the courtyard were unlocked and pushed apart, exactly like what the other hunter had relayed to the girl. Lien glances back once at the terrace before passing, eyes taking in empty vials on cracked stone and bloodstains trailing around deep indents, leading down the steep end of a broken section of the parapet. Her eyes flicker, trying to piece together the fight that must have ensued before the a soft tug from the girl beside her distracts her away and alerts her to an arch carved into the stone wall.

She enters a flooded room, spying another ladder that leads them up to a cramped library of books. Flipping pages of dusty tomes she attempts to read the scrawled writing, but the scribbles elude her, cursive too small and indistinguishable, leading her to lose interest quickly as she looks up and moves away. The girl tugs her to the direction of a spiral staircase, and with heedful steps she makes her way up, the smell of incense burning stronger as they near the top. Letting go of the girl's hand as she spies a set of open doors, Lien adjusts her grip on the saw cleaver as she enters the wide hallway-like room.

The initial smog clears, and she blinks, aware that her entrance has been noticed. Both a man and a figure on the floor pause in their urgent conversation to look over at her, and in the midst of the abrupt silence she finds familiar eyes meet hers. A pounding beat. The urgency and tenseness drains from the other hunter's eyes as they lock gazes, recognition lighting both of their irises, and Lien feels her breath catch.

He was wearing a different set of clothes from before; dark, navy garb covered by a sophisticated leather coat, but that did not change the reflecting slickness on parts of the fabric, no doubt stained by blood or other worse fluids. He seemed frazzled, several emotions glinting in his eyes as he stares, eyes raking down her form, before a miniscule twist of his lips signals his greeting.

"Hello, Lien."

"Mister hunter!" A relieved exclamation turns her away from him, glancing back at her companion who was peeking out from the shadow of her coat. With a soft sob the girl leaves the safety of her side, running towards the hunter with her unhurt arm outstretched. The man bends down and catches her one-armed hug easily, relieved eyes darkening as they took in the bloodied dress and wrapped bandages while the huddled figure beside him gasps in alarm at the sight of her injuries. The girl herself fails to notice any of those gestures, only turning her curious gaze back and forth between both hunters when she sees the male flicks his eyes up to her saviour and stare with an almost curious tenderness.

Slowly Lien lowers the saw cleaver in her hands, trying to hide the surprise on her face as she inclines her head. Strange, she didn't think she would be feeling this pleased to see him again.

"Lukas."

His ensuing smile sends her heart into a stir.

...

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A/N

(Gothic architecture is a piece of shit and I want to die. Save meeee-)

SO, this piece of creation is probably going to span 4-5 chapters-tomes in total, so most likely the length of a novella. (My projects keep getting longer and more complicated w h y.) To be honest after watching BB all I wanted to write was a dramatic, angst-ridden drabble. But then I realised, unlike art and comic strips, the BB story is (probably) impossible to be AUed and written down in a few scenes due to the lore heaviness. I still could, but then the drabble would just have been a fight scene with not as much impact since there is limited context. Hence I decided to screw myself over and just write my entire interpretation of almost the entire BB plot out just to build hype and slow burn for that climax in that one scene. Mhmm, probably already regretting it right about now.

The next chapter won't be out so soon. Expect irregular updates though, because of chapter length and also because I plan to write other stories while working on this project.

Hahaha I can already foresee the pain and suffering in the future. There isn't a lot for me to comment on any of the trio's characters for now, except that whatever tentative bonds that are forming will be slow and full of tension heee. Actually no I do have to say that Lukas is being a jealous slayer (murderer) who has probably got the long end of the suffering and degrading mentality stick as of now. But that's subjected to change as the night goes on B) (Also Gilbert is da best npc whoo)

Hope you enjoyed this chapter, drop a review if you can, and have a very happy lunar new year!

(If this story convinces you to go watch Bloodborne please _do_ , please it's dark but great with the lore and scenic environment.)

Originally Uploaded on Feb 9th. Reuploaded due to error.


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